


Lover Dearest

by covertCalligrapher



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, NSFW, fill for karezi day 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covertCalligrapher/pseuds/covertCalligrapher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ms. Pyrope, your mother is waiting for you to finish getting dressed,” your butler says, knocking on the door to your room.</p><p>You break away from Karkat, one of the landscapers, and tell him you’ll be right out, you just need to finish putting on your dress.</p><p>Karkat nuzzles against your neck and you laugh, but the noise is sad. He gives you a kiss before carefully climbing out your room’s window, keeping your affair secret for yet another day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lover Dearest

You're always the first one to initiate these close encounters with your boy. You've always been the one to give the signal, and you know he loves the moments you steal for each other, and he fears what should happen if they are finally found. You hush his worries every time and you keep him safe.

  


You remember the first time you saw him. He'd been the perfect distance for you to see him clarity, and he'd just seemed so _wonderful_. He seemed tall and he was muscled from working on your estate's fields, his skin was a wonderful dark brown and his hair was black with no highlights. You knew right there that _he_ was the one you were going to take; _he_ was the one you wanted to have for yourself.

  


You never expected to love him as you do, though.

  


He's wrapped around you and your sheets are heavy with the two of you. The soft fabric feels so much different than his hard, scarred skin that you let out a sudden laugh at the contrasting textures under your hands. He stops moving and just looks at you, and you see the blurring colors of his face and feel the heat of his breath as he asks you if you're alright.

  


You shuffle your hips a little and get a soft groan from him. You take a hand from the smooth, shiny sheets and press it over his face to tell how he's looking. The nails of your other hand bite even harder into his back. “I love you, that's all,” you give to him as your fingers go over his cheekbones and nose, card through his sweat-spiked hair.

  


He leans down and kisses you, his hips resuming their previous pace. You bite at his lips, hook your legs even higher up over his hips as your breath becomes erratic. He feels you nearing your end and he goes faster, just how he knows you like it. He's saying something that you don't understand, it's not English and probably not even Spanish. You soon fall over the proverbial edge and blots of colors cloud what's there to see and the boy under your hands and legs just feels too sharp but you can't let go, because to let him go would be to acknowledge that you'll have to separate at some point, and just can't exist as a single unit.

  


You come to soon, and are aware that he reached his limit while you were seeing fireworks with your nails stuck in his skin.

  


You breathe out a gust of air and he gives a small shiver as he rolls off of you.

  


You push yourself up and lay across his chest, your fingers tracing whorls into his damp skin. “You were wonderful,” you tell him, voice and face lazy as you shape your thoughts on his chest.

  


He's a little gruff, but soft none-the-less. “ _Eres hermosa y loca._ You're insane, we're going to get caught.”

  


You pound a fist over his heart and he yelps. “Nonsense. No one saw you come inside, right?”

  


He leans up and rubs at the bruise you punched into him. “No, but someone probably heard that scream you peeled right there.”

  


You feel a satisfied blush creep up your face and you lean up to him, the gesture commanding to him that you want him to kiss you.

  


He does, and it goes a little far and you're both worked up again, and probably would have made love for a second time, but a pesky knock beats on your door and brakes you two away from each other.

  


“ _Fuck,”_ you mutter as you pull away from Karkat. You hear him give a curse in Spanish and then a small chuckle as he comments that your language is disgusting.

  


“Ms. Pyrope, your mother is waiting for you to finish getting dressed,” your butler says, knocking on the door to your room again.

  


You sigh and tell him you'll be ready when you're ready and you hear a huff and he leaves. You turn back to Karkat and say, “Your vocabulary is predominantly swears, you pig!”

  


He huffs and pulls himself out from under you, a wince in his voice as he replies. “I'm poor and a labourer, the only words I'm _allowed_ to say are offensive.”

  


You sit up and face him, the blurs of his body slowly becoming covered by his dirty clothing. “You know,” you begin as you stand and walk over to him. “We could probably go another round before my mother needs me.” You plant a kiss on his shoulder, your arms wrapped under his.

  


He groans and you know he wants to but it's the sound he gives you whenever he has to say no. “Tez, if someone finds me, I'll get shot and I don't want to have to pry slugs out of my legs,” he says softly as he pulls your arms from him so he can tug his overalls up.

  


You huff at him to at least help you get dressed. He agrees, and helps you slip into your underclothes, then the blue dress your mother had instructed you to wear for tonight. He helps you redo your hair, re-pinning the careful curls from the nest they'd become.

  


He leans away and declares you finished.

  


You make a face for him and he gives a small coughing laugh and you break into a grin that's too wide and reach out for him. You kiss him swiftly before breaking off and asking if your make up is destroyed.

  


He wipes his thumbs around your eyes to clear away smudges that must have been there and says that your lipstick is gone. You ask him to hand you the red tube and he does. You put it on and pull him down, pressing a large peck to his cheek. He grumbles at you and his form shifts to cover it, but you don't think he wipes it off.

  


He starts to say something and his voice is choked, but you hear footsteps pass by your room and quickly tell him to ship off or else he'll find a shot of salt in his asscheeks.

  


“Ha!” he emphasizes as you press him towards your window. “You'd probably set that lunatic grounds man and his salt gun on me for fun, _perra frígida,”_ You know what he called you, but you can't seem to think that he means it to be as insulting as it is.

  


You feel him slam into something solid and stop pressing at his angry exclamation.

  


“C'mon,” you state as he turns and his form slides around. “I'll come see you tonight. Remember to leave that lantern out otherwise I might end up in the lake.”

  


He says alright and you hear him clamouring around to climb down your terrace when you hear a pause and feel him pull you in for another kiss. It's warmer and familiar than your last one and you melt against it happily.

  


He pulls away from you and his voice is hushed and fervent. “You know Terezi, we could still leave together. I have enough money to get us to Texas. I have family there and they could help us get to California. I could become a farmer or a farmhand and maybe we could even get married.” He sounds a little feverish and he sounds like he's dreaming when he tacks on, “Maybe even have kids, have a _life_.”

  


You reach out for him and he grabs your hand and presses it to his face. You've heard his wish before and you ache for it. But you can't just _leave_. You love your family and it might kill them if you left. Your mother wants to get you married but no man would want a blind wife with a comparatively small fortune.

  


You lean your forehead against his chest. He's warm. “I want to, _so badly_. I never expected to love you this much!” He makes a noise of indignation, but you hush him. “I really didn't. I just wanted to have fun, and then _this_ happened and I wouldn't trade you for the world. We'll leave eventually, I promise, we'll live with your family and maybe we'll even have a kid. I just... I need to tell my mother what's going on. Then I _swear_ we'll go that very second.”

  


You can hear his eyes rolling at you and he scoffs. _“Tus sueños son demasiado perfectos.”_

  


You pull away from him and smack him, what the fuck did he say.

  


“I said, “your dreams are too perfect,” because they are. Christ, in your world we can get married and you can keep your money and your mother!”

  


You're getting angry and you don't want to be angry at him, so you tell him to leave and reaffirm that you'll see him tonight. He absconds down your terrace and you exit your room.

  


Your house is familiar and the banisters smell like old wood and laquer. They're smooth under yor hands as you descend your staircase to the dining room where your mother is. A servant tells you it's 4:30, and you're late for dinner. You tell him you'll eat when you want to.

  


You come over to the table and your mother tells you that your lipstick is smudged. You scrub around your lips to fix it and your mother asks you what took so long.

  


You shrug, an excuse readily falling from your lips. “I fell asleep, it's so hot out it's hard to stay awake.”

  


“You can't just sleep your life away, Terezi,” your mother admonishes, but you know you hear a small smile in her voice. “At this rate, you'll be the most well-rested woman in New York.”

  


“My eyes might not be good for much, but I won't let them have bags under them!” you joke as someone places a plate in front of you. You eat as daintily as you can manage without being able to see much of what you're eating. You assess the soup to be watercress, and after that comes chicken and herbs, then a small amount of ice cream. It tastes sweet, and you'd recognize cherries anywhere.

  


You and your mother make small talk as you both eat, she comments that your sister, Latula is doing very well with her husband and is even pregnant now. You pull a sly smile and say that Latula doesn't like kids.

  


Your mother's reply is a testament you've heard before. “She didn't like other people's kids, but she feels differently about her own. I did too.” She barks a laugh so much like your own that you can't help but widen your grin. “I didn't even know how to hold a baby when I had your sister!”

  


“It's a miracle we survived infancy,” you comment as you push your food around.

  


“Well, once you get over how other people coo at kids, you begin to realize that they're people too. Let me tell you, _you_ were a handful, always getting into things you weren't supposed to.”

  


You stick your tongue out at her and she says you have terrible manners. You say that's why no estate owner has asked for your hand yet. Your mother says some have asked, but she'd turned them away.

  


“Hm?” you ask as a servant takes your dish away.

  


Your mother ignores you and asks that you join her in the sun room. You're not one to disobey such an easy wish, so you go along with her and soon you're sipping something strikingly illegal and looking at the pale form of the sky.

  


You ask what time it is, and a servant replies it's now just past 7. You'd promised to go out to see Karkat at 8, and don't wish to be late.

  


Your mother comments that it's a lovely evening outside. “Terezi, what do _you_ want?”

  


You're startled by the question, and you sweat a little, nervous without knowing why. “Why?”

  


“Well,” she starts, “You've been smiling so much more lately. When there's no one else there but yourself. The servants have been telling me that you spend so much time outside watching the hedges get trimmed and the grass mowed and the pool taken care of, and you're grinning through the whole of it.”

  


You're dumb for a second before you reply, quick and succinct. “Well, I have to amuse myself _somehow_ , mother.”

  


She doesn't answer and you just hear her get up and then she's in front of you. Her dress is a lovely dark red and blue and she kneels in front of you, a small, heavy purse being placed in your lap. “I love you dearly Terezi, and I know you love me too, but I know you've found room for someone else. There's just not much for you here, and it'd kill me to make you unhappy by giving your hand to someone without you actually loving them.”

  


Your mouth is hanging open so you snap it shut and swallow. Your mother continues. “Your father died when you were so young, but I loved him as much as I fear you love your Spanish Boy.”

  


You don't answer past, “He's from Texas.”

  


She pats your knees and tells you to do what you want, then she leaves your presence. Just as she's about to leave the room, she tells you that she's sent a servant upstairs to pack you a bag of clothing; your trip is sure to be a long one.

  


You're completely speechless and you don't know how long you sit there, dumbstruck and mind reeling. A maid eventually comes up to you and tells you it's 15 to 8, and she escorts you to your room. Inside, you feel around on your bed and find a large, thick suitcase filled with what feels like clothing and a make up bag. You grab the maid that brought you in and ask her what the _hell_ is going on.

  


“Well, ma'am, your mother hasn't told anyone here much past that you needed a suitcase ready because you were going on a trip for a bit. She asked me to tell you that there's a note for you inside that purse she gave you, but I don't really know how you're going to read it, ma'am.”

  


You swallow and thank her, then dismiss her. She leaves you and you fling your suit case shut and feel your way out of the mansion and to the shack that the landscapers sleep in. Karkat remembered to leave a lantern out, and your grin grows in such size you think your face will split. You knock on the door with such force, the frame rattles and you accidentally fall forward a little a startled man opens the door. He seems to recognize you, as he steps aside and tells you that Karkat's in the third room on the left.

  


You thank him, though you know where Karkat is.

  


You shuffle over and open the door and Karkat's inside with another man. The man apologizes profusely in an amalgamation of Spanish and English before fleeing and you and Karkat are alone.

  


You drop your suitcase and fling yourself at him, your hands seeking his face and kissing anything you can grab. He manages to ask what the suitcase is for and what the _fuck_ has gotten into you in between your attacks.

  


You screech something about Texas and detach from him long enough to thrust the purse your mother had given you at him. He opens it, struggling to shirk you off as he does so. You hear paper being rustled around and then Karkat gives a low whistle.

  


“What is it,” you ask, making grabby hands at him.

  


“Calm down, crazy,” he says, voice soft and a little breathless. “Your mother put 500 dollars in here and she wrote me a letter.”

  


“What does it say?” you ask, your impatience mounting.

  


“Well,” he starts and you hear him swallow. “It says that she knows about us. She said that you're very clever and that I'm very lucky to have you. She says that she's even more clever though, and that walls talk. She wants me to take you to my family in Texas and be happy.”

  


You snort. “That's too sentimental for my mother, are you sure that's what it said?”

  


“Well, it was addressed to _me_ and not _you_ , so anything I tell you is privileged information. The be happy part was something she expressly stipulated though, and I should fear pain if we aren't.”

  


“That's more like it,” you grin and he asks when you want to go.

  


“I think she wants us to leave tonight, really. _I_ want to leave tonight.” You've been wanting to go with him and live a life where it won't matter that you can't see properly or that he's poor and Mexican. Go somewhere where people say poor girl as you pass and make rude remarks to Karkat, how he's just a landscaper, pool cleaner, poor, stupid, son of a farmer. The only thing holding you back had been your family and now it feels like you're _free_ , finally able to do what _you_ want, and not what your status or position wants.

  


“We can go now,” Karkat suggests, but you cut him off with a kiss. He hums his approval at your suggestion as he wraps his arms around you and tightens the kiss. Your eyes are closed halfway and you feel at ease, perfectly content and excited at the same time.

  


You make a noise far in the back of your throat as one of your hands wanders south and tugs on one of the low pockets of Karkat's overalls. He gets the idea and soon you're both laying on his this, itchy mattress idly soaking each other in. Your clothes have been long since discarded on the floor and you're both whispering that you love each other over and over in between fervent kisses.

  


Your limbs are tangled together and your hips grind against him, the delicious friction pulling slick moans easily from both of you. He asks if you want to be on top.

  


You laugh at him and his mannerisms, giddy and practically drunk off this feeling. You press him back onto the sheets and straddle him, sinking down slowly on him. He lets out a surprisingly loud explicative and you lean forward, huffing with sensation. It's a little awkward as you press a kiss to him, but you don't _care_ , because it'll never be awkward again. You go slowly, rolling your hips and feeling him press against you in all ways possible, relishing in the heat of his skin and the roughness of his thumbs.

  


He breathes out that your mother is very strange to be alright with this.

  


You give a sharp jut of your hips and you both pull a thick moan and you groan out, “It's not like she asked to watch, Karkat.”

  


You hear him expel a fast rush of air and a thin laugh. _“That_ , I wouldn't be able to handle.”

  


You answer him and you two keep up small, bite-sized conversations here and there. All too soon and maybe at just the right time, the tautness in your gut gets to be _just_ too much, and the lights you'd seen a few hours earlier return with such a force that the scream you let out breaks through your deaf barrier and makes it to your ears. You feel each spasm and clutch with such clarity, you feel you might die of it. It takes you apart and puts you back together perfectly.

  


Afterwards, you lie together for what feels like forever, wrapped up together, but it can only be an hour, because eventually Karkat moves you both and lets out a quiet string of curses, some in English, many others in Spanish.

  


He declares that you both need to get dressed and do. Your dress is pulled back onto your body and he dresses himself around your messing hands and soon his possessions are packed together and you're both walking out into the muggy air.

  


The train station is a fair distance from your home, so it takes you at least an hour to get there. The man who sells you both tickets sounds unsure of whether or not he should be doing this, but it's not his job to be questioning, so he sells you both tickets for the earliest possible train in the morning and you and Karkat wait at the train station over night. You fall asleep a few times, your head lolling on his shoulder, but he remains awake the entire time, mumbling that he's really fucking shocked that this is really actually happening.

  


At 4 AM, the train pulls in and you both bored it. It takes you nearly three days to get to Karkat's family's ranch in southern Texas. You'd always wondered why he left to get a poor job as a hand when his family had a ranch, and you find out why. While his family may own land and makes enough to get by, a man can own 200 acres and be piss poor compared to the man who owns 10 acres and raises cash crops.

  


His family is warm and only his parents and brother and cousins speak even a lick of English. His father is an old _ranchero_ and warmly accepts into his family. It's almost as if it all happens in a dream, and once you'd been with them for a week, you have Karkat help you write a letter to your mother telling her that it's well here, it really _is_ a dry heatand that his family is very kind to you. As an extra you ask Karkat to just write thank you, and he swears that he does.

  


A month after you'd been there, you're married to him and you'd venture to say it's actually the happiest day of your life. Seven months later, you have your first child and only Karkat's brother has something to say about the timing of the birth. He shuts him up promptly, and the child is a boy. Karkat describes what he looks like to you, and he says he looks like you. He's darker, but not as tan as Karkat is. His hair is a strange brown-red color, but his eyes are just as dark as his father's.

  


You remember what your mother said about children, and you stand by your assertion that you don't like kids, but yours is pretty okay.

  


You write to your mother after he's born and she gets herself on a train and comes to see him and you stand corrected. _This_ is the happiest day of your life. You never make it to California, like Karkat had said he'd wanted to, but you'd both found solace in staying on the dry ranch on the boarder of the US and Mexico.

**Author's Note:**

> here's the [ask](http://covertcalligrapher.tumblr.com/post/47067135602/whispers-if-you-dont-have-too-many-reqs-then-karezi%20) that i received a few months ago that an anon requested I expand upon for karezi day. I hope that went well!


End file.
